


Some dead mfs

by Mothpuddle



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Cuddles hehe, DadSchlatt AU, Emotional, Eventual Smut maybe, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Probably more characters im just too lazy to put them in, dead mfs, sleepy bois inc - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28631832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mothpuddle/pseuds/Mothpuddle
Summary: Ghostbur doesn't remember Schlatt, but Schlatt remembers him. Ooh spicy ikr. I wonderrrr what will unfold from this turn of events!
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Comments: 21
Kudos: 276





	1. Ooh yuh get it I guess

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah this is a pretty short chapter, the next ones will most likely be longer than this one. I'm going to try and update this regularly, yeah.

Ghostbur stood over Schlatt’s grave, umbrella in his left hand, his right hand gently placed against the damp tombstone, the water causing a slight pain in the palm of his hand, a quiet sizzling sound emitting from it. The umbrella protected him from the drizzle of rain falling from the grey cloudy sky. 

A slight breeze coming from the left, making his hair slightly blow into his face. He tightly closed his eyes, trying to remember anything,  _ anything _ about Schlatt, but all that came up was a faint image of a man with ram horns. He knew Schlatt is evil, he had to be. That’s what the history books said. The books all framed Schlatt as this evil tyrannical villan. Painted him out as this crazed man who died from his own habits. The books said all the mean things he did, so he knew he was supposed to hate him. 

But he didn’t. 

He held a strange fascination towards him. He was the only other dead person on the sever, yet he has never seen him once. It concerned him slightly, the fact that he has no clue of his whereabouts. What if he lost even more memories then he did? What if he doesn’t even remember himself. 

Ghostbur removed his hand from the grave, instead putting it over the mid area between his stomach and his chest, feeling the familiar stabbing pain course through it. Whenever he tries to think to hard about these things, that happens. It’s like a reminder, a reminder that he is dead. 

A reminder that he will never be able to fully understand the pain he put his friends through. A reminder that he will never be able to satisfy anybody's needs. His sons need for a father, a family. Tommys need for his questions to be answered. Tubbos need for presidential advice. A painful reminder. 

Slowly, he walked away from the grave, he needed to get out of this gravesite. The pain in his abdomen grew the longer he stayed here. He needed gone. He needed to get as far away and as close as possible at the same time. 

He tried to take a few more steps, just a few more and he would be out of this horrible place, but his legs failed him and his knees buckled. It seemed as if he fell in slow motion, him dropping his umbrella as he fell. A small squeal of pain came from him as the rain picked up and splattered his skin, waves of pain radiating through him with each raindrop that smashed against him. 

Pathetically, Ghostbur curled up in a ball on the cold wet grass, salty tears filling his eyes and threatening to spill over. 

With one hand still on his chest like area, he reached his other out, trying his hardest to reach his umbrella, but the wind picking it up and blowing it away. The previously mentioned tears overflowed and dripped down his face as he watched the umbrella fly away like a bird. He brought his outstretched arm back towards himself, partially hugging himself, trying to find some sort of comfort. 

Suddenly, the painful rain stopped. He looked around and still saw the drops coming down like bullets around him, but nothing was hitting him. It seemed as if he had his own little protective shield around him, fighting off the rain, keeping him safe. Ghostbur looked up, being greeted with a pair of red eyes staring down at him, and a light blue umbrella being held over him by the owner of the red eyes. 

It was hard to describe the type of red that they were, it seemed as if the colors in them were constantly shifting, like a stormy ocean, waves of red crashing down on top of eachother, smashing and creating a new shade of red. In the middle of the two of the eyes were odd oval shaped pupils. The eyes were very, how would he put this,  _ ram like _ . 

He shifted his focus from the eyes to the body connected to the eyes, a man with chocolate brown hair and curved ram horns being the owner of the eyes. The horns had small cracks in them, only adding to the beauty of them. 

The man was wearing a light blue sweater, similar to the blue of the large umbrella he was holding, with a small heart patch messily sewn onto the left side of the sweater. Black jeans where loosely hanging on his legs, most likely being held up by a belt, but the sweater covering up the area where it would be. 

After scanning him, he looked back up the the mystery mans eyes, them being filled with amusement, finding his curiosity to be a funny. The man put out a pale grey hand for Ghostbur to use as support for standing up. He unwrapped his arm from around himself, taking the mans hand and shakily standing up, the sharp pain in his chest spiking at the effort that it took. 

Now at his full height, Ghostbur had to look down at the man, being roughly two inches taller than him. The man let go of his hand, having been holding it for a moment too long, and looks up at Ghostbur, being able to get a good look at him now, since he was previously on the ground. After a moment of staring, he finally made a move to speak.

“...Hello.” His voice echoed slightly, in a similar way to Ghostbur’s. 

“Hello! Nice to meet you! How are you! Who are you?” The man slightly furrowed his eyebrows, taken aback by the sudden bombard of questions, holding up his pointer finger as an act of silencing him. 

“I am doing quite well- uh- well- as well as a dead person can be doing, I guess.” He let his hand fall to his side, his sweater sleeve falling down slightly, almost covering his hand. ”How has my man Tubbo been doing? You outta know him, did you know he’s president now?” 

Ghostburs welcoming gaze suddenly turned into once of suspicion, confused as to why this random man spoke about Tubbo as if he was his best friend. Yeah, it’s common to know who Tubbo is, seeing as he is the president of L’manburg, but not many speak about him in such way. 

“....Who are you?” The man shifted uncomfortably at that question, not really wishing to spoil this moment so quickly by revealing himself. He expected ghostbur to recognise him immediately, but he didn’t. 

“C’mon, don’t pull this bullshit, Wilbur. You know who I am.” A look of confusion coated his face, the man in front of him recognised him, he knew who he was. He closed his eyes and tried to think of who this man might be, but nothing came up.

His attempted search of memories of this man left him with a blank slate and even more questions. 

“I’m- I’m sorry, but I do not know you- I’m sorry.” The man started at him, the anger that had began to develop on his face melting away to a sort of pitiful look. 

“Wilbur it’s me. You know me. How do you not recognise me? It’s me, Schlatt.”


	2. Uh yeah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I've decided to do updates on either mondays or fridays, so look for new chapters then, yeah!

Ghostbur stood staring at the man, taking a couple moments to process the words that he just said. There was no way that this man was Schlatt. Schlatt was always described as terrifying, a force not to reckon with, but the man that stood before him was not intimidating whatsoever. 

Ghostbur squinted his eyes and stared at him, comparing him to the drawings of him that he saw plastered all over the history books. He seemed to have many similarities, but some things about him were too off for him to be him, his eyes were too sunken in, his skin was too pale, his cheek bones were too prominent. Ghostbur put a hand out and placed it on the mans face, inspecting his features further, debating wether the man was really telling the truth about his identity or not. 

The man flinches and glared at him slightly, clearly not wanting to be touched, but not saying anything about it. The look Ghostbur had on his face was one of a puppy just discovering something for the first time. Five minutes passed and Ghostbur was still looking over his features, the more he left his hand on the mans face, the more he got used to the touch, even leaning into it slightly after a bit. 

Ghostbur pulled his hand away, finally coming to a conclusion. 

“Schlatt.. I don’t remember the man, but I’ve seen to many pictures of him, and he looks so similar to you that you must be him!” He hesitates after saying that, almost whispering what he says next. “I also don’t know anyone who would want to pretend to be him, I’ve heard he’s a bad bad guy.” 

The man, now definitely being Schlatt, furrows his eyebrows and lets out a small grumble. “I wasn’t  _ that _ bad of a guy, all those stupid history books overplay everything, the person who wrote them didn’t even have half the mind to add the good things I did.” 

“...You did good things?” 

“OF COURSE I DID, WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?!” Schlatt placed his hand over his mouth after saying that, realizing how loud he had gotten and sighing. Someone had to have heard him, and they were most definitely going to investigate. 

He grabbed Ghostbur’s wrist with one hand, the other one still tightly gripping the umbrella handle, and began dragging him away from the grave. Ghostbur willingly followed, always open to an adventure. And even if he didn’t want to go with, he would have no choice, it was still down pouring rain, and his umbrella was far, far away by now. 

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, it’s just so frustrating. I’ve had to sit back and watch everyone shit talk me, even my own ex-fiance, and now I get to speak to someone that’s not myself in a mirror, and that person says shit stuff about me too.” Ghostbur stayed silent, feeling a bit bad now for saying such stuff, but still not seeing a reason to begin to censor his speech, he genuinely did not know that he might’ve done something good. 

He looked down at his wrist, staring at Schlatt’s hand, his finger tips were a bit black at the end, and his nails were slightly on the longer side, seemingly painted black to match the ends of his fingers. 

“Your hands are pretty!” 

“Shut up.”

The rest of the journey was silent, Ghostbur looking around at the unfamiliar scenery as they drifted further and further away from L’manburg, having no clue where he was being lead, while Schlatt seemed to know the path by heart. 

After some time, they arrived at their destination, said place being a small cabin in the middle of nowhere, the roof seemed to be caving in a bit, one of the wooden walls seeming to be rotting. 

“Yeah it’s not much, but it’s all I have, it’s home.” Schlatt said in a hushed tone, as if speaking too loud would cause the whole forest to come out right then and there to attack him. 

Ghostbur shook his hand free from Schlatt’s grip, slowly walking towards the cabin, the rain wasn’t coming down in this area, so he wasn’t binded to Schlatt’s umbrella. He placed his hand on the door, having to push it open, it not having a doorknob. It made a horrible squeaking noise as it opened, the hinges protesting the movement being forced upon it. He stood at the doorway and looked around, the decoration being sparse and seemingly thrown together. A bed was in the far left corner, a chest and crafting table next to it, on the far right was a furnace, another chest placed next to said furnace. There was a window above the bed, the glass stained and cracked, a noticeable draft blowing in from it. 

“Like I said, it’s not much-” 

“I like it! It’s nice.” Schlatt eyed Ghostbur, confused as to what he saw in the place, but not questioning it, pushing him forward, away from the doorway and walking in. Wilbur watched as Schlatt rummaged through the chest next to his bed, putting away the umbrella and pulling out a torch, placing it on the floor next to the chest. 

“I don’t get visitors, so excuse my unpreparedness.” Ghostbur chose to ignore what Schlatt said, sitting down on the floor, slightly leaning against the wall next to the door, not wanting to put all of his weight against it, not knowing how strong the walls of this place are, and not willing to find out. 

Schlatt dusted a few leaves off of his bedsheets before sitting down with a sigh, not having walked that much in a while. He stares at Ghostbur, he looked closer to his alive self then Schlatt did, the lucky bastard. 

“So… you really don’t remember me, huh?” Schlatt crossed his arms and leaned forward, waiting for a response, but Ghostbur just nods his head, not really knowing what to say. “What were you even doing at my grave, why would you have a purpose to go there if you don’t even remember me?” 

“I…. I thought that it would’ve helped my memory sorta… but it didn’t.” 

“Yeah, clearly.” Ghostbur cringed slightly at the harsh tone. 

Schlatt sighed and laid down, back aching and head pounding. He stared at the ceiling, letting out a small sound of disappointment when he heard the rain begin once again. “

Wilbur I am going to take a nap, if you mess with anything, and I mean  _ anything  _ while I am asleep, I am gonna kick you out into the rain.” Ghostbur gives a sharp nod, relaxing Schlatt with the conformation that he most likely wont to anything. Schlatt’s eyes slipped shut and he fell into a light, dreamless sleep. 

Ghostbur cautiously stood up, the floorboards creaking under him, and walked over to Schlatt’s bedside. He slowly put his hand on Schlatt’s forehead, his long, slender fingers brushing his hair away from it. 

His whole body was very warm, the opposite to the freezing cold of Ghostburs body. He thought for a moment, weighing the options of what he was about to do. 

He decided to just go through with it, drawing his hand away from Schlatt’s forehead and slipping into the bed with him, wrapping his arms around Schlatt and pulling him close to himself. Ghostbur contently sighed, the warmth of Schlatt seeping out of him and warming Ghostbur. 

Schlatt instinctively cuddled into Ghostbur in his sleep, the freezing cold of him helping him cool down. Ghostbur settled down into the bed, arms wrapped around Schlatt, the pounding rain outside slowly lulling him into a sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GLATT!


	3. I'm bad at chapter names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Updating this book two times in a week? Ikr, it's a miracle.

Ghostbur’s sleep was the exact opposite of Schlatt’s. Eventful. It felt as if he was watching a movie, except the characters within it were the people he knew. His close friends, his family,  _ himself _ . 

Some moments shown were so familiar, he felt so fondly of it all, as if he had lived through it. At the beginning the dream depicted war, death, freedom, happiness, sunlight. It seemed as if the good moments had out weighed the bad. But soon, it fell. The dream spiraled down into a deep well of depression and insanity. He couldn’t bare watching it unfold, it drove him crazy. The dream, or technically nightmare, now, kept escalating and escalating until it swiftly ended. Ended at the tip of a blade. The tears of a father. The taking of a life. 

Ghostbur woke with a start, not recognising where he was a first, panic flowing through him, but he quickly calmed, remembering his surroundings. 

He looked down at his chest, finding Schlatt there, still consumed with peaceful sleep. Ghostbur tightened his arms around the warm ram hybrid, wanting to go back to his dreamland, but fearing the horrors too much to allow himself to. 

His eyes wandered around the small cabin, memorizing every grain of wood out of boredom. The rain must’ve stopped during his sleep, it being completely silent outside besides for the occasional sound of an animal. 

After a while of laying there, the tired groan of Schlatt cut through the silence, startling Ghostbur slightly. Schlatt slowly opened his ruby red eyes, trying to blink the tiredness away from himself, but failing and closing them again. He grumbled and hid is face in Ghostburs cold chest, before freezing and opening his eyes again. 

He quickly sat up and pushed Ghostbur away, away also being considered the floor. 

“WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING?!?” Schlatt glared at Ghostbur, who was currently a pile on the floor. After a moment of laying there pathetically, Ghostbur sat up and shook his hair out from in his eyes. 

“WHY IN THE ABSOULUTE  _ FUCK _ WHERE YOU IN MY BED?” Instead of answering, Ghostbur just sat there like a deer in headlights, not sure how to word his explanation in a way that wouldn’t sound weird. 

After a a solid fifteen seconds of thinking and sitting in awkward silence, Ghostbur finally gave his half-assed reason. 

“Well… you were just really warm… and it was cold in here..” Schlatt just let out an angered sigh at this and rubbed his two fingers over his right temple, in a way that seemed as if he was attempting to fight off a headache.

“I thought that you being dead would make you less annoying, but somehow it made you into a clueless annoying  _ idiot _ .” Ghostbur furrowed his eyebrows and looked away, taking Schlatt’s words deep into his mind, trying to use them to picture himself when he was alive. 

I mean yeah, he saw his alive self in his dream, well, it was less of a dream and more of a playback of his memories, but it was so difficult to figure out what his alive self was like from those moments. 

He knew nothing and everything about himself at the same time, and it hurt. All of his memories are at the tip of his tongue, but also still somewhere far away and lost. 

Gone. 

Ghostburs body began to ache, the source of the aching being right where his stab wound was. The more he thought about it all, his past self, the sharper and more intense the pain got. He brought his hand to the source of the pain, wincing and tearing up. His pains got really bad sometimes, especially when he was attempting to remember things, but they had never been this bad. 

In his mind, this is what he imagined it had felt like when he had gotten stabbed. When the diamond sword was impaled through his chest. 

Ghostbur tightly closed his eyes, the pain becoming extremely overwhelming. Schlatt noticed this change in Ghostbur and was confused, this sort of stuff never happened to him, it can’t happen to him, he has nothing that he forgot, he has nothing that he has to try and remember. If anything, being dead had heightened his memory. He remembered everything, every detail of every memory he made when he was alive. 

Slowly, Schlatt removed himself from the bed, crouching down next to Ghostbur and inspecting him. A couple beads of sweat where pooling on his forehead, a few tears slipping from his eyes and rolling down his face, falling onto his soft yellow sweater. 

Schlatt had no idea what was happening to him, let alone what to do to help. Even if he knew what to do, he was total shit at comforting people. He never found the need to while he was alive, and most of the time, people that needed comforting had needed it because of something that he had done to them. 

“..Wilbur? C’mon, Wilbur, dude what’s happening.” Ghostbur went to open his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a pained sob, the sound racking through his body and intensifying the pain. 

Any movement he made had made it worse. 

Schlatt inspected Ghostbur, staring at the hand he had held over his chest and raising his eyebrows in slight understanding. 

“Wilbur.. Wilbur is it your stab wound? Is that what’s wrong?” Ghostbur just nodded slightly, more tears falling down his face. The pain was spreading through his body, like a seed was planted and was growing roots of agony. 

Carefully and hesitantly, Schlatt wrapped his arms around Ghostbur, holding him in a way that you would hold a lost puppy, or an injured kitten. 

Schlatt rubbed small circles into Ghostburs back, he wanted so badly to say something to comfort him, but no words came into his mind. He had no clue what to say. Instead, Schlatt just pulled Ghostbur into his lap and rocked him slightly, like you would do with an upset baby.

Ghostbur just pulled his knees close to himself, curling up into a pained ball, hoping to any higher being that the pain would end soon. 

Schlatt continues rubbing his back, bringing his other hand up to his hair, gently running his fingers through it. For a dead man, his hair was extremely soft. It was very well taken care of, with should have been the opposite, considering the affect that water has on ghosts. 

After a solid ten minuets of sitting there, Ghostbur sobbing while on Schlatts lap, the tears let up, the pain was still there, but it became more dull, the roots it grew slowly dying off, leaving just the wilted up pain seed there, trying to grow but failing.

Ghostbur hid his face in the crook of Schlatt’s neck. Schlatt froze at this action, the intimacy of all of this finally hitting him, causing him to take his hands away from him and try to gently push him off of his lap, Ghostbur taking his free arm and wrapping it around Schlatt to keep himself in place. 

“Wait- No, Schlatt please don’t let me go please.” Ghostbur knew how pathetic he must sound saying that, but didn’t care. He needed comfort at that moment, and he was determined to get it. 

Schlatt sighed and slowly wrapped his arms around Ghostbus waist, sort of pulling him closer to himself. The warmth of himself seeping into Ghostbur, helping to ease his pain further, similar to a heating pad. 

Ghosbur let out a sigh of relief, he was finally beginning to feel better. His cold breath had seeped through Schlatt’s clothes and tickled his neck, sending a chill through him and making him jump slightly. 

“Wilbur, stop that.” Ghosbur pulled his head away from his neck and stared at him, confused. His chocolate brown eyes were slightly shiny from the tears that where previously falling out of them. Schlatt held eye contact with Ghosbur, narrowing his eyes and trying to keep a blush from seeping onto his cheeks. 

He looked so very pretty.

Schlatt had never been this close to Ghostbur, or let along Wilbur, before. His features were delicate and perfect, the light shining in from the window behind them was highlighting him in a soft yellow light. 

Before Schlatt could stop himself, he drew one of his hands away from Ghostbur’s waist, bringing it to his chin and pulling his face down slightly, leaning up and crashing his lips soft lips roughly against Ghostburs chapped ones.


	4. NOT A CHAPTER IM SORRY

sorry that I haven't been updating as much as I should, I've been going through a sort of writer's block recently, so I haven't had the motivation to write. I am going to attempt to get a chapter out this week, the soonest possible time of release being wednesday. I think you all will like what I have cooking up, just please attempt to have patience. As a sort of apology, I'm going to make this next chapter be a bit longer then the last three. Have a wonderful day all of you, make sure to drink water, eat something, and take care of your body. I understand that self care can be hard due to all of the things going on in the world at the moment, but just remember that I care for you, and if you ever need someone to talk to, I am here. 

OK, ALL THAT GUSHY STUFF BEHIND, TELL ME IN THE COMMENTS SOME THINGS YOU'D LIKE TO SEE IN THE FUTURE OF THIS BOOK, ID LIKE TO KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS WOULD LIKE SO I CAN CATER MORE.

**Author's Note:**

> GLATT


End file.
